Yearly Tradition
by Nuttynube
Summary: Sherlock's been out all night on a case and John is pretty damn annoyed, and then he's just perplexed by how Sherlock can get Easter eggs so incredibly wrong. One-shot.


John POV

Bloody Sherlock had been out all night, again, and I had spent said night worried sick. Normally he texted if he was going out for a night case, demanding that I accompanied him, or at least let me know where he was and that he wasn't dead. The front door closed with a crash and there was the sound of footsteps running up the stairs, just as I was picking up the newspaper to pretend that I hadn't spent the whole night staring at the door to the flat like a worried mother waiting for her teenage daughter to come home. He shot me one look and sighed,

"Your newspaper is upside down, John. Have I upset you in some way?"

"No, no, it just would have been nice if you had let me know where you were going. There was no note, no text." I am very aware I sounded like a stroppy wife, nagging her husband, but I didn't really care,

"I had a case."

"Oh really, so why didn't you take me with you?"

"It was too dangerous."

I put down the newspaper, slightly surprised by that,

"Seriously? You've never been worried about that before."

"Yes, well this was a very unique case."  
"Okay? Why?" He sighed, exasperated by my lack of telepathy,

"It's a case that I have been working on ever since I was a child. Every year, in the spring, someone leaves a collection of coloured eggs all around the country, gifts for children but I cannot for the life of me find their motive. Are they bombs, do they contain mind-control agents or is it something else, far more sinister? I spent the last night tracking down as many as I could, in an attempt to catch the culprit placing his peculiar calling card." It was at that moment he began unloading his pocket, pulling out hundreds of little eggs – chocolate or just painted – and I promptly burst out laughing,

"Wait, wait, wait! You were on an Easter Egg hunt? That's where you were last night?" He frowned at me,

"No, I was out looking for a murderer."

"You were looking for the Easter Bunny! And since when has he murdered anyone?"

"Well there haven't been any murders yet but this is clearly the work of a psycho, trying to cause panic and confusion, it is a natural progression-"

"It's a bunny, he goes round hiding Easter eggs for the children to find, it's fun. Have you never been on an Easter egg hunt before?" He shook his head and I sighed, heaving myself to my feet and crossing to where my coat was hanging,

"Come on." He picked his coat up again,

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to the park, they have an Egg Hunt today and lots of other activities for the local kids, we may get some funny looks but I don't think that matters to you."

"Why are we doing that?"  
"Because apparently you had a deprived childhood without the Easter Bunny or chocolate eggs, I only hope that you at least had Santa Clause-" He sniffed dismissively,

"Of course not, I blocked off my fireplace when I was young to make sure that no paedophiles could get in, Mycroft helped." I didn't deign to answer that,

"Fine, okay but you're having Easter Eggs. Come on."

Two hours later found us in a ditch, as Sherlock managed to deduce the most likely places that the eggs would be hidden – since apparently people show a certain routine and lack of creativity when hiding – and sticking his tongue out at the small kids. He had an armful of eggs, as opposed to the kids who only had one or two, and somewhere along the line he had managed to stop and get his face painted like a white rabbit when I wasn't looking. I just groaned, watching his childish behaviour from where I was sat on the edge of the ditch, trying not to be too embarrassed by the parents giving me angry looks.

Sherlock looked up at me with a devilish grin,

"John?" I groaned, looking up from where I was resting my forehead on my knees,

"What? What do you want?"

"I just wanted to say, I know exactly what an Easter Egg hunt is, the case was made up so that you would come with me, I don't hunt eggs alone." He then promptly scampered away as I struggled to my feet, ready to throttle him.

I don't know how he convinced me to get my face painted to match him, later in the day, he's a devious man. But I mean, who can say no to thate overgrown kid?

I will admit, the face paints and Easter Egg hunts became a yearly tradition.

** An. If anybody would like to do some art for this and post it on tumblr, then let me know. I would love to see Sherlock and John** **with face paint, possibly bunny ears, hunting easter eggs. Maybe a picture of Sherlock as the Easter Bunny, hiding the eggs. Get creative :)**


End file.
